Fluid Inspiration

A misty whim distills on dust of destiny,
Condensing into drizzling downpours of desire.
Amassed on vital earth, it gathers into dreams—
A stream of vision mirroring tomorrow's light.
Its softly flowing course is simply swept aside
By foolish envying, relentless lethargy,
A coward's satisfaction or distracted will.
However, left unhindered, nature's native course
Provides a path of pleasantly torrential turnsCascading ever onward into swelling peace.

The Peach Tree

In summers past, I wandered free.
One day I chanced to see a tree
Who spoke and started asking me
Some things I couldn’t answer.
He asked me why the earth is round
And where the rarest diamond’s found
And what’s the spider monkey’s sound
And what’s the cure for cancer?

I thought and then began to say
“Who cares about this anyway?
I don’t have time to stay all day
I really should be going.”
The tree looked down and then replied
“For many years now I have tried
To find someone who has inside
Some things that are worth knowing.”

I thought again and said to him
“You know, I’m really not that dim!
You’re asking questions on a whim.
I want to know your reason.”
He quietly began to sigh
Then said “This is the reason why
It really makes me want to cry
Whenever I’m in season.”

I asked him what he meant and then
He started talking yet again
“The only time I’m used is when
You people want my peaches.
I’m really good for more, you know.
I always want the chance to show
My aptitude to think and grow
And give inspiring speeches.”

He said that word and then I knew
The very thing I had to do
And so I got a saw and glue
And fashioned my creation.
I cut the tree down, then I took
The wood and with it made a book,
An then a podium, and look!
An utter innovation!

The book sits on his stand, you see
And rests there very pleasantly
Inside a university
With people always near him.
The book gives lectures twice a day
And speaks so well you have to pay.
At last the old tree got his way
And people always hear him.

The Sweet Remorse of Pity

The herald of the dying crow
Announces all deserving woe
But long, long afterward the crowd remains
To hear the herald speak the woes again.

Until at last the glutted crowd
Complains the dirge too sad and loud.
They dig the wretched remnants from the ground
And set their frame on strings to dance around.

The crowd thinks nothing of the show
But cries the louder should it go.
They place the fetid thing in sheltered frame
And proudly pass to marvel whence it came.

They hide their conscious shame of grief
In epitaphs on gilded leaf.
Their empathies all twitch in final bow,
The last effect to crease a wrinkled brow.

Genuine Approval

A smile
And a nod
Tell me my work is accepted,

And my labors are not wasted.

Just Suppose

Let's just suppose you underwent

A surgical procedure

To make your face exactly like

Your eighth grade science teacher.
Then when you got to class you'd sit

Where everyone could see

So when your teacher walked inside

He'd say "By Jove that's me!"
He'd give your tests the highest grades

No matter what you do

Because he'd get a lousy score

By giving one to you.

The Individual

All across reality people are swaying
to a song and a beat that nobody’s playing.
Along for the ride is a man who’s not paying
it any attention.

Meditations on a Winter Night

At the foot of a mount in a cabin of log
Lives a hunter, his wife, and an old, droopy dog.
Every evening or so they sit down by the fire
And they listen to tales from the world’s biggest liar.
Now this hunter, you see, he loves spinning a yarn
From the tip of the mount to the top of his barn.
And when he starts a-tellin' those tales that he tells
You can bet there's a stench that the old doggy smells.
It’s the smell of a liar, mark my words, 'cause it’s true.
If you lied bad as that, he'd be smellin' you too!
One cold night as they sat near the fire, big and warm
The house rattled and shook from an oncoming storm.
"Oh my land!" cried his wife as outside the wind blew,
"If this blizzard keeps up, I'm afraid that we're through!"
“No we ain’t!” said the hunter, not seeming to care.
“I survived a worse storm once while fightin' a bear!"
"It began,” he began, “when I hunted this deer,
Then it started to snow, the first time of the year.
I lost track of the deer on account of that snow.
There were flakes big as fists, then they started to grow
Till the biggest one almost knocked over a tree,
But then not even that one could knock over me!
It was cold, I remember, much colder than now,
So I thought it was best I got warmer somehow
And I picked up some sticks, then as fast as I could
Made a bonfire so big it lit most of the wood.
Since I wanted some fish and the lake was all froze,
I broke ice with my feet and caught fish with my toes.
Then I cut down some trees and as quick as a lick,
I constructed a cabin all sturdy and thick.
When I’d finished the last touching up on the place,
This enormous and fierce polar bear hit my face.
Well, I guess that big bear he was fixin' to steal
All them fish I’d caught earlier to eat for my meal
Because bears, as you know, they like eatin' fish too
So we wrestled and rolled and the storm howled and blew.
I took care of that bear, boy I took him to town.
Wasn’t long, I recall, till I had that bear down.
He was screamin' for mercy so I let him go
But he said to me ‘Boy, it’s real cold in the snow.
Once I looked at that fire, well, I thought it was swell
And I thought to myself I might sit for a spell.’
I felt bad for the bear, so I said it’s all right
If he came in and stayed by the fire for the night.
In the morning I told him that next time it snowed,
He could come spend the night at my humble abode.”
So he ended his tale and his wife shook her head.
"I think that's the worst lie ever uttered!" she said.
“When I think you’re done fibbing, you say something new.”
“But this one,” he protested, “is utterly true!”
And just then from the door came a big booming knock,
So his wife went up to it and undid the lock
And the doorway was filled with a white, husky bear.
“Can I please come inside?” he asked. “It’s cold out there!”

You're It

Through the garden, up a tree
I’m so fast, you can’t catch me!
In the house and up the stairs,
What! You tagged me? That’s not fair.

Self

What is in a name?
Or a secret?
But is the secret the truth,
or only an illusion,
set forth to ends with no beginning,
and no purpose?
As leaves fall into a forest with no ears,
they make no sound.
But here is the truth,
that all become wise-
Truth is in the eye of the beholder.

Chilly Willy

Chilly Willy was a goat.
Chilly Willy got a coat,
So Chilly Willy won't be chilly,
Will he?

Persistent Hope

Though dark you see the day to be
A brighter day is on its way.
Though dread and fear seem always near
Your true repose is ever close.
Though seem it strange you cannot change
This fact that night gives way to light.

Always, My Sweet

Butter, oh how thou dost warrant an ode,
For flavors which thou dost preserve.
Always thou hast keep inside mine abode,
But more than that, thou dost deserve.
To treat thee unkindly would be far too rash,
And betrayeth our excellent smarts.
In our land, thy fate is not in the trash,
But rather inside of our hearts.